


Dead Man's Switch

by rayshant_bestopt



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Murder Fantasy, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayshant_bestopt/pseuds/rayshant_bestopt
Summary: When Heather McNamara is driven to attempt suicide, Veronica’s determination to save her drives JD to make a promise to keep Veronica safe.  Even from himself.  Apparently Sherman is making a change. (canon-divergence from "Shine a Light")





	1. The Dimmest Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is not intended to glamorize toxic relationships. If you find yourself in a relationship where you are the only thing keeping someone from harming themselves or others, please get help, because that’s not healthy or right.

“Aw, Heather’s gonna cry…” Veronica watched in horror as the mob of students surrounded the meek and broken blonde, eyes wide and brimming. A strained moment passed, and the cheerleader turned like a bat out of Hell, tearing out the door and down the halls.  
  
“Turn off the camera—turn them off!” Mrs. Flemming started snapping irritably, and the brainy brunette could read the disappointment of the failed “love-in” all over her face.  
  
“Cameras? Is that all you really care about?” she reproached lividly, before quickly turning on heel and running after the other girl.  
  
She was halfway down the hall when a hand caught hers. “What are you doing?” JD asked incredulously.  
  
“I’m going to stop Heather before she tries to kill herself.”  
  
“One more dead Heather—I don’t see how that’s a bad thing…”  
  
Veronica’s eyes widened in disbelief. “She’s my friend,” her voice spat back at her boyfriend (though this was starting to become a debatable label), before turning back down toward the girl’s room.  
  
She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she may have heard a resigned sigh and combat boots trudging behind her.  
  
Poor Heather McNamara. If Veronica hadn’t been so terrified by what could have been, the scene before her would have just been pathetic: she must have been wrestling with the child-proof lid of those containers for a couple minutes at least. But watching the cascade of white pills going past her lips knocked out any humor and all she could do was dive-bomb the blonde girl, knocking her over and jostling a good number of pills out onto the floor.  
  
“Heather, what are you doing?!”  
  
“Veronica—suicide is a very private thing,” came the meek and garbled reply. Veronica’s brown eyes stared at the lost blue gaze watching her, and she frowned.  
“Killing yourself to become a statistic in USA Today? I can’t think of anything less private,” she scolded the other girl, shifting her knees along the linoleum so they were closer together.  
  
“But Heather, and Kurt and Ram…“  
  
A wave of guilt washed over Veronica, but she kept her face a mask, placing a comforting hand over the girl’s yellow blazer. “If everyone jumped off of a bridge, young lady, would you?”  
  
Heather glanced down at the white pills strewn in front of them. “Probably,” she answered sadly, tucking her legs beneath her into a sit. Veronica followed suit, sighing as she slid her arm further across her friend’s shoulders to hug her toward her.  
  
Another sigh echoed from the door, and both girls looked up to see JD watching them, his face reluctant and yet regretful as he glanced from Veronica to Heather. His boots thudded across the floor, crunching the pills into dust as he looked down at the two of them.  
  
Heather’s eyes flitted curiously from Veronica back to the boy. “What are you doing here Jesse James? This is the girl’s room.”  
  
The boy chuckled dryly, arching an eyebrow at the blonde girl. “I figured given the present circumstances, you’d be willing to forgive me for intruding. And I wasn’t going to let a bitch like Heather Duke get off on that stunt like she did.” Veronica gave him a pointed look, which JD seemed to acknowledge, pressing his lips together and taking a moment before dropping down to a squat in front of the two girls.  
  
“Look Heather,” he told her seriously, causing even Veronica to tilt her head as she listened to him with interest. “If you were happy every single day of your life…you wouldn’t be human—you’d be a game show host, you know? You’re better than that—you’ve got friends like Veronica that would miss you if you checked out.”  
  
The duster-clad boy kept his eyes on Heather, but Veronica felt her heart wrench at his attempt at a casual comment. She knew that he missed his mom desperately, and didn’t doubt that her absence severely affected him. Veronica found herself hoping like crazy that the boy she loved was really starting to get what she’d been talking about—that they didn’t have the right to decide who should live or die; that they could just be normal together, try to get through their own lives together.  
  
The ditzy blonde interrupted her contemplation however when she suddenly leaned forward and, to everyone’s surprise, wrapped her arms around JD. His hands froze open-palmed in bewilderment, before he awkwardly patted her back in return, glancing at Veronica for the reassuring approval that she was eager to give him. When Heather released him, she spat out the remaining pills and curled back into Veronica’s arms with a tired smile.  
  
“Thanks for coming after me” she voiced softly, blue gaze head turning toward the boy she barely knew to extend the gesture to him as well. JD waved it off, glancing around uneasily; but Veronica happily hugged Heather back, reassuring the girl. “What do you say we ditch eighth period and go to the mall?”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” the brunette replied with a smirk.  
  
Heather’s eyes traveled toward the other. “JD?”  
  
The dark-haired boy seemed genuinely surprised by her addressing him, but he shrugged. “Why not?” he agreed.


	2. Blue and Orange Morality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a clueless Heather MacNamara in tow, Veronica tries to rein in JD's morally questionable impulses as she reflects on the weight of being with someone like her boyfriend. Meanwhile, Heather Duke continues on her path toward high school dominance.

Three shoe stores and a trip to the food court later, Veronica and JD were sucking down slushies while Heather happily chatted up a random guy that had bought her a pretzel from the Orange Julius.

“That was really nice; what you said to Heather,” Veronica told him sincerely.

“Well; I promised,” JD reminded her. “And…I promised. I’m not saying I don’t still want to slit Heather Duke’s wrists with her copy of Moby Dick, but—I would never hurt you Veronica. I would do anything for you.”

Veronica watched him steadily. “Thank you.” It was a heavy thing, loving JD. He felt things so intensely, and things were so skewed in his mind. Veronica felt like even if she didn’t care about him, she would still need to be his caretaker; like even though he knew he wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t cope with right and wrong on his own. Not that she _wanted_ to leave him, but the responsibility was still a lot for her. “Hey Heather,” she called over to the golden-bedecked girl just rejoining them with a sunny smile on her face. “Why don’t we head back to my place?”

Which was how they ended up at the Sawyers, with Veronica and Heather playing croquet while JD read and occasionally commented from the patio.

“You sure you don’t want to play JD?” Veronica's lips twitched as Heather called up to her boyfriend, apparently getting more acclimated to using his real name instead of the nicknames Heather Chandler had been dolling out before her death.

“Thanks, but uh, croquet’s not really my thing.” JD lifted his book up with a crooked smile, as if to illustrate his point. 

“Aw come on JD—get your nose out of there and spend some time with us,” Veronica flirted lightly, flashing him a playful smile. One that apparently the boy couldn’t resist, because he rolled his eyes and let the book fall shut between his hands as he moved to join them.

“Here,” Heather offered, handing him the orange mallet and matching ball. “You’re up.”

“Uh, thanks Heather,” he replied, glancing over at his girlfriend uncertainly before lining his stick up with the ball. He tapped it lightly, rolling along the grass in a shy way that seemed to Veronica very unlike him—JD always seemed to be very full-throttle, and yet the ball rolled almost delicately toward the wicket a few feet away. 

Veronica stepped up and took her shot, the blue ball clacking against JD’s pointedly. The boy’s eyebrow quirked at her. 

“Are you going to take the two, or send him out Veronica?” Heather asked inquisitively. Veronica paused a moment, before kicking her ball lightly in a better position to go through the wicket.

“Really?” JD questioned. “Come on; I can take it.”

“Not my style,” she replied easily.

“Just because I’m your boyfriend doesn’t mean you should go easy on me,” he told her challengingly. Veronica considered him again. “I can take it,” he insisted, and she wondered if he meant more than just the game. However, she did redirect her ball, lining blue up with orange and letting her mallet send his across the field toward the steps with Heather giggling in amusement.

It was cut off abruptly when a red Mary Jane stepped down from the stairs next to the balls with a smug look on her face. 

“So here you are,” Heather Duke observed, glancing at the trio critically, before focusing her gaze on Veronica and Heather McNamara. “I didn’t see you during last period.”

“We were avoiding you,” Veronica deadpanned, turning back to the blonde. “It’s your turn Heather.”

“Sure Veronica,” the meek girl responded, turning her focus studiously onto the ball at her feet.

“Whatever,” the new Head Bitch remarked, eyes narrowing into distaste. “I don’t need to be here to watch you both spiral into freaks and geeks loserdom anyways. I just need your signatures on this petition.”

“What petition?” Veronica asked suspiciously, watching as Heather Duke shoved the clipboard and pen into Heather McNamara’s hands. The brunette also noted that JD’s knuckles were white as he gripped his mallet tightly beneath his fingers. 

“We want to dedicate the yearbook to Heather and Kurt and Ram,” she explained, lifting her nails to her eyesight for inspection. “Change around the whole format, but Mr. Anderson says we don’t have the budget—that they only have space for four pages of pictures and shit.”

“Pictures no doubt featuring you with the dead,” Veronica remarked snidely.

“Oh yeah,” Heather McNamara commented, her eyes apparently lighting in understanding, and then bowing back down as she mumbled “Sorry Heather” to Heather Duke’s reflexive “Shut up Heather!”

“So if I get the whole school to sign, they’ll have to change their mind,” the red-clad senior continued as though she had remained uninterrupted throughout. Heather’s dark eyes pulled back up accusingly. “I mean, you _do_ want Heather and Duke and Ram to be properly memorialized, don’t you Veronica? After all, they died because of people like you.”

A short laugh interrupted them, and all three heads turned to see JD covering his mouth, a massively amused grin radiating from behind it. 

“I’m not signing a petition to give you a chance to use their deaths to get your picture in four extra pages of the yearbook, Heather,” Veronica uttered, pulling the other girl’s attention back to her as she took the clipboard and thrust it back into Heather’s hands. “Go find someone else to dupe.”

“I don’t understand why you’re pulling my dick, Veronica,” Heather sneered, echoing Heather Chandler’s normal malice. “I’m running this school now, and you’d better watch your step.” A cruel smile played on her lips as she looked to the blonde across from her. “See you later, Heather.”

Veronica watched Heather leave, eyes glaring daggers long after she’d gone. Heather McNamara’s tiny cough pulled her attention back to the group. “I should probably go too, Veronica,” she admitted, propping her mallet against the table. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime Heather,” Veronica assured her. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” It was obvious that tomorrow was still weighing heavily on the blonde girl’s mind. But her lips curved upward very slightly as she brought her blue gaze back up to the two seniors watching her. “See you later JD,” she added shyly to the stoic boy, who brought a semi-clenched hand up in response, before disappearing by the same path as the Heather before.

Veronica watched her go, then quickly turned back to her boyfriend. He was tensed, eyes shut and gripping his mallet so tightly that Veronica was surprised he hadn’t splintered it. “Careful,” she said gently as she approached him. “You’ll break that thing if your grip gets any tighter.”

“Fucking Heather Duke,” he griped. “She’s worse than Heather Chandler, you know that? And that stupid petition?”

“Forget Heather Duke,” Veronica insisted, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “If it wasn’t her, it’d be someone else. There’s _always_ going to be someone else.” And there would be—Veronica was starting to realize that unless they decided to just blow up the school, everyone would continue shifting upward on the ladder, being evil to one another in their quest to draw attention away from themselves. “Maybe it’s better that we know the enemy,” she added, trying to dissuade JD from having any similar thoughts that he could be pushed to act upon. Veronica couldn’t stomach the idea of trying to justify loving a mass-murderer.

“Sure, sure…” JD muttered bitterly, his hand brushing along the belt under his duster, and Veronica wondered if he’d truly gotten rid of the gun like he’d promised. There was no way she’d be able to explain a gunshot in her backyard to her parents. “Just a long, never-ending line of assholes that constantly beat down on everyone else.”

After another moment, though, he brought his hand back up to comb roughly through his hair, before grabbing his mallet and slamming it into the orange ball still at his feet, causing Veronica to jump. The ball raced along the grass, slamming against the brick steps before ricocheting through a nearby wick and rolling to a stop.

“Nice shot Jason,” Veronica’s mom called out with a smile as she carried a plate toward them. “Although please be careful—I’m not sure the steps can stand many of those sorts of hits.”

“Sorry Mom,” her daughter apologized for the boy, hand slipping into his to pry away the mallet and intertwine their fingers instead. JD’s expression seemed to soften, his fingers happily curling into hers.

“Would you kids like some pate?” Mrs. Sawyer continued with a playful smile, holding out the tray. She glanced at the two. “What happened to Heather?”

“Oh…she had to go, Mom,” Veronica explained, not wanting to go into depth about the mess that was now her life.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you had some fun—things have been getting so heavy lately for you.” The older woman placed a sympathetic hand on her daughter’s cheek. After a quiet pause, she turned to the boy in front of her. “So Jason—it’s so nice to finally meet you. Veronica’s been very secretive about the new man in her life.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Veronica whined, her face flushing; but the words seemed to cause JD’s face to brighten even further, and she hoped that all thoughts about Heathers had managed to brush themselves from his mind for now.

“Well, there isn’t really a lot to say, I guess,” he admitted, reached over and taking the liverwurst with a nod of thanks. “I only moved here a couple weeks ago, but I think your daughter is absolutely amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear it—so do we.” Mrs. Sawyer gave a goofy chuckle at her own joke. “Oh, and Veronica? Martha called looking for you the other day—don’t forget about your other friends now.”

“Definitely, Mom. Thanks.” God, Martha. Veronica didn’t know what to do with her best friend; she was having a really hard time accepting Ram’s death, and if the brainy brunette didn’t feel so weird about doing it, she would be making a more solid effort to be supportive of her during her best friend’s grieving.

“Good.” Veronica wondered if her mother saw something in her own eyes, because she paused and continued to consider her daughter a little longer than the girl thought was necessary. Her gaze flickered over to JD, before leaving the plate out and wandering back into the kitchen where her father was probably puzzling over a crossword.

“I should probably get going too,” JD lamented, picking up another cracker as his hand released hers to wrap around her waist. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Veronica smiled and nodded—it was a dangerous line with JD, controlling herself and controlling him, so when she could allow tiny gaps in responsibility to just be seventeen with him, she seized them. And crawling up into his bedroom window or milling around the 7-11 had definitely become one of those things.


	3. Hurt You to Help You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha is still trying to solve the mystery of Kurt and Ram's death, and Veronica is forced to break her friend's heart to keep her from digging any further, all while trying to discern whether she can trust JD to keep his promise not to hurt anyone else.

The next day Veronica was reminiscing over the acts of the previous night—and trying to remember where she’d stuck her American History homework that she couldn’t tell was ever going to be collected or not—when Martha suddenly appeared beside her. She balked slightly, wishing she’d spent more time thinking about how she was going to deal with her best friend.

“So Veronica—did you get it?” Veronica blinked twice in confusion. “JD’s locker combination? Remember: we were going to look there, see if there was anything suspicious?”

_Oh crap_. Now Veronica remembered: during one of Martha’s blusterings, she’d mentioned the idea that maybe Ram and Kurt’s deaths had been staged. She’d thrown out JD’s name as a suspect based on their fights in the cafeteria, and had asked Veronica to get his locker combination so the two of them could snoop around for any incriminating evidence. Veronica had honestly been hoping that her friend was just hysterical, and while casting heavy doubt on the (very correct) theory, had agreed to just try to calm her down.

Apparently the time between then and now had simply reinforced Martha’s beliefs, because here she was, still as determined as she stood in front of the other girl. “Oh, uh, no, Martha—I’m sorry; I forgot.” 

“Well, maybe you could just ask him now?” The larger girl wasn’t giving up easily.

“Look, Martha—you saw the note. JD didn’t do that.” True—JD didn’t write the note: _she_ had. JD had just shot them both.

“But Ram wasn’t gay!” the other girl insisted. “We kissed—“

“Back in kindergarten Martha! That was a long time ago!”

Her friend shook her head stubbornly. “No; it’s more than that. I’ve seen the pictures Heather’s been collecting—he’s been with a lot of girls. And then there’s that _letter_ he wrote to me the day of the party—“

Damn, Veronica should have known that Heather Chandler would find a way to bite her in the ass from beyond the grave. “Ram didn’t write that letter, Martha!”

The surprise on her face was killing Veronica. “What do you mean?”

She forced a sigh. “Ram didn’t write that note—I did. Heather created it as a joke. The whole party knew about it, and nobody laughed harder about it than Ram.” 

Veronica’s heart wrenched painfully at the wounded expression that played across Martha’s face. She wanted to apologize; to explain everything. But she didn’t know what was in JD’s locker—she still didn’t know how much she could trust him. She had to hurt her best friend to keep her safe. And so she watched guiltily as the most kind-hearted person she’d ever known tearfully turned away; fumbling down the corridor and out of sight.

As if the Devil himself were listening, none other than JD popped into sight less than a minute later, wrapping his arms happily around Veronica and kissing his girlfriend gently along her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Still wracked with shame, though, Veronica wasn’t really in a mood to be seduced, and instead turned to face him. “I want to see inside your locker,” she demanded, causing the boy’s eyebrow to quirk curiously. 

“My locker? Why?”

“I just broke my best friend’s heart for you—I want to know that I’m not being stupid by trusting you.” Being honest was a questionable tact at this point, but Veronica was starting to run out of energy keeping track of all of the lies; JD at least knew everything and maybe she could be truthful.

He looked slightly hurt by her accusation, but nodded curtly and led the way back toward his locker. She quickly saddled up beside him, whispering as they tread past the other students.

“Everything’s gone, right? No _ich luge bullets_?” she hissed acerbically. “You got rid of all of it like you promised?”

“Yes, Veronica.” A touch of annoyance tinged the tone of his reply, and he quickly spun the combination of his lock before jerking it open. Veronica was relieved to see it was simply filled with books—texts, philosophy—and a slushie, probably from his morning pit-stop. “Satisfied?”

“Why do you still have this?” Veronica reached in and pulled out a familiar beaten-up version of Moby Dick, waving it lightly with her brow furrowed in disapproval.

“Relax. It’s just a stress reliever,” he promised, crossing his arms and watching her unconvinced expression before huffing and straightening so he could close the distance between them. “Look Veronica—I’m not going to lie and say I still don’t think about offing Heather Duke; or that I don’t believe she deserves to die. But I made a promise to you, and I’m going to keep it. The book is just…an escape. A creative outlet for my macabre fantasies. I’m not going to do anything unless you change your mind.”

“I’m _never_ changing my mind,” she told him adamantly.

JD shrugged. “Then I guess evil bitches like Heather Duke are forever safe from justice,” he lamented, holding out his hand. Veronica paused a moment, then reluctantly put the book back in it.

“I’m sorry,” she felt the need to apologize. The weight on her was heavy, and she desperately wanted to explain to _someone_ , since she couldn’t to Martha. “Martha is just taking the whole Ram thing really hard—she’s been in love with him since kindergarten—“

“Why would someone like Martha Dunnstock waste her time on an asshole like Ram?” JD inquired out loud, putting Moby Dick back in the locker and shutting it forcefully.

“It’s a long story,” Veronica replied, not sure someone as detached as JD would get Martha’s fascination with the boy that had been so sweet so long ago. “But the point is, watching my best friend being miserable over a guy I helped… _kill_ is killing _me_ , and I just had to tell her about the whole note thing to finally get her to drop it.”

“She’s better off moving on,” JD remarked casually, possessively wrapping an arm over her shoulder as the bell rang. “She’s way better than Ram Sweeney.”

“Of course she’s better than him, but I didn’t want it to happen like _this_.” Veronica was miserable, and she wished her boyfriend was a little more sympathetic. Trying to convince him that their victims were real people capable of real humanity felt similar to trying to convince Heather Duke to share her new red scrunchie.

They finally reached her classroom, and JD spun her lightly to face him. “Look,” he reassured her, hands on both shoulders to force her eyes on him. “It’s going to be okay—this will all blow over soon, and people will only remember the good things that came out of this. Martha will realize she’s better off, and you’ll see that _we_ did that for her. It’ll come out right.”

Veronica wasn’t so certain, but she nodded anyways, accepting a chaste kiss from her boyfriend before he and his duster spun off in the opposite direction toward his own class.


	4. The Things We Carry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with JD's eruptions and the guilt of hurting Martha, Veronica worries what side of the morality line she's actually standing on.

It was funny: there was a lot more parental supervision at her house, but Veronica was starting to realize that what they lost in privacy she appreciated a lot more by what they gained in sanity as the creepy, creaky front door swung open while she and JD were making out on the couch.

“ _Hey Pop, you’re interrupting me and my girlfriend,_ ” Mr. Dean greeted in the typical unsettling banter that the two men took up whenever in a room together.

“ _Well, Son,_ ” JD answered in kind, helping her to her feet and putting an appropriate amount of space between them, though keeping his hands firmly in hers. “ _You know that whenever you have company over we have an Open-Door Policy._ ” The older man gave her a leering once-over through his tinted glasses in response, and she was simultaneously unnerved and relieved that JD slid ever-so-slightly in front of her, as if to protect her from his father’s gaze. 

After a pause, Bud Dean held up a tape and grinned widely. “Judge told those tree-huggers to eat shit,” he revealed to them. “I put a Norwegian baby in the boiler room to set off the packs of thermals set around the building. Man, I’m going to want my drawstring pants for this.”

Veronica waited until JD’s father’s back was retreating down the hall to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She really needed to put her foot down against hanging out here anymore. Meanwhile, JD had seemed to have gone rigid in anger.

“JD?” Her free hand touched his bicep carefully, trying to catch his attention. He jerked away from her, storming over to the table and grabbing a lamp—which he abruptly threw into the television set.

“Argh! That was new!” The voice down the hall sounded angry, and yet unsurprised. It sort of terrified Veronica more than the fact that JD had just destroyed the appliance in front of her.

“What the hell?” she demanded.

“Come on—it was funny. Pissed him off.” JD’s expression looked disbelieving, like he was completely clueless about how destroying the TV with a lamp was any different than throwing a pillow.

“JD, that wasn’t funny!” She shook her head angrily at him. “You really have no idea about the difference between right and wrong.” She turned and attempted to storm past him, but was stopped by his grip on her wrist.

“Okay, okay—I’m sorry.” His words spat at her in exasperation, and Veronica merely glared: apologies meant nothing if he was just saying them because he thought it was what she wanted. She didn’t want to stick around and see what else he would destroy in one of his temper tantrums. She jerked her hand in an attempt to loosen it.

Apparently her glower calmed him down: enough so that his expression turned genuine. “No, really…Veronica, I’m sorry. I was mad…he’s just—“ his free hand clenched and unclenched as he shut his eyes tightly, and she could see him warring with his violent impulses. She knew she shouldn’t forgive him so easily, but knowing his father—even as little as she did—Veronica couldn’t help but sympathize JD’s need to use little outbursts to gain the upperhand on the old man, even for just a few seconds.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she told him with a sigh. His face relaxed with her words, and he nodded eagerly as his fingers slid into hers. 

“I promise I’m trying,” JD insisted as they walked along the familiar route to the 7-11. She figured he probably needed an outlet of escape, since she was taking away all of his more volatile ones.

“I know,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand. “And I know your dad’s not making it easy. But I just don’t see how that means the _TV_ had it coming, you know?” JD glanced over at her with a smirk, which she answered on kind, though uncertain he’d really understood the extent of the comment. She didn’t want to be responsible for hurting anyone else.

That night Veronica made an excuse, telling JD she was staying over at her aunt’s and he couldn’t come visit. Just in case, she kept her lights off in her bedroom to keep herself invisible from the outside world, and her window locked. She crept downstairs after her parents retired down the hall to bed, toying with the binding of her diary as she stared out the window of the living room and looking out at the moon. She really needed space, and yet she just felt so alone and isolated from everyone. It was a terrifying place.

The dark-haired girl glanced over at the phone, then turned to the blank page.

_Dear Diary;  
I know I should have called Martha tonight. Or gone over to her house to talk to her in person. Except now, besides just lying to her about Ram’s sexuality and cause of death, I’m also tearing my best friend down. I feel like I’m as bad as Heather Chandler was. Am I just putting myself in her place in order to keep myself safe? Was that Heather before she became a Heather?   
Just a month ago we were eating Jiffy Pop and watching The Princess Bride and dreaming of a happy ending once we got out of high school. Now I’m scared that there will be more kids in the In Memorium section of the yearbook than graduating.   
All I wanted was for my school to be a nice place. _

“I just want my school to be a nice place…” she repeated out loud in a quiet whisper into the dark, before curling quietly onto the couch and closing her eyes, promising she’d find Martha the next day and make things up to her.


	5. Switching White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica's choices come back to bite her, and she becomes desperate to fix the mess she's created. JD is determined not to lose Veronica.

“Just another example of the losers trying to copy the cool kids, and _failing_ miserably…” Heather Duke’s sneer rang in Veronica’s ears, her stomach twisting with nausea as she and her lackeys cackled in the halls.

“Oh my god, _Martha_.” Veronica sat in the hospital room, completely dejected. She couldn’t breathe. She’d done this to her best friend—driven her to jump off a bridge. Veronica was becoming single-handedly responsible for the death of every one of her friends and their associates, whether by words or actions. “God, I’m so sorry.”

She’d destroyed her friend. Her _best_ friend. Who’d only wanted justice for Ram Sweeney, who’d only ever been nice to her during _kindergarten_. As opposed to Veronica, who’d pushed her over the edge by confessing that she’d been the butt of a joke to dodge suspicion of being responsible for the death of said linebacker and his best friend. And Heather Chandler. 

“I’m going to Hell,” she whispered, sinking to the floor as her legs finally lost the ability to hold her. And she deserved it. 

“No you’re not.” Veronica didn't even turn at the voice. “This wasn’t your fault.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Not my fault? I practically shoved her over the bridge myself. I did this-- to Ram, and Heather…”

“Whoa—did you glamorize their deaths?” JD squatted down next to her, pushing his duster away from his boots. “You wrote something to give them substance, but you weren’t the one that published it around school. You weren’t the one that wanted to televise some love-in in the cafeteria. You helped _save_ Heather McNamara—not Heather Duke, not Mrs. Flemming. You, Veronica. You couldn’t have known that Martha was considering—“

“I _should_ have known,” she countered angrily, hot tears streaming down her face as she held her friend’s splinted-hand above her. “She was my best friend, and she loved Ram. I should have known.”

For once JD didn’t argue. He looked pensively over to Martha. “She’s alive,” he reminded her softly.

“I have to tell her the truth,” Veronica said.

“What? _No_ —you’ll go to jail.”

“I have to tell her _something!_ ” she argued. “Look at her, JD! _I_ did that—I’m not going to let her think no one cares about what she’s going through. I’m not going to let her be alone.”

JD gripped her arm firmly. “Okay, let’s just calm down for now. You’re always telling me to think things through: how about before we go telling anybody anything we just take a little time to consider all of this? Martha will be okay for now.” His eyes fixed on her intently. “I won’t lose you Veronica.”

Fear compounded with shame and guilt and pain; but Veronica merely nodded. She supposed JD was right: if she was going to confess, she wanted to be the one to tell Martha; so she’d have to at least wait for her to wake up first. 

Returning to school was the worst: Heather Duke was exactly the same, if not worse. She’d apparently managed to get the signatures she needed for the extra pages in the yearbook, although based off of homeroom gossip Veronica was suspecting that some peers were either coerced or straight-up lied to about the purpose their support was serving. 

Martha’s attempted suicide didn’t draw any sympathy or attention from the adults; and only became slam-chatter amongst her fellow students. Veronica found herself withdrawing as far from the crowd she’d so desperately wanted to be part of as she could, only accepting company from Heather McNamara, who, once the focus of her own depression had shifted, was welcomed back to the In Crowd with about as much love as she’d had originally. For all of her blonde clichés however, Heather didn’t forget Veronica, and continually checked up on her to talk and offer a kind word and offers of hanging out and/or going shopping.

If she wasn’t so lost in her own problems, Veronica would be worried by the fact that this meant JD was her most common shoulder to lean on. She was well aware of his toxic influence, and without her tenacity to keep him in check, she wondered how long it would be before he convinced her that Heather Duke was to blame for all of her problems, and if she’d be able to stop herself from going along with whatever he had planned. Oddly though, JD didn’t push her toward his usual homicidal tendencies. He continually encouraged her to keep their assistance in Heather, Kurt, and Ram’s “suicides” to themselves, but otherwise just sat with her quietly, keeping the conversation light in between bouts of reflection.

***

When she heard that Martha was finally awake, Veronica almost ditched school to see her. The only thing that stopped her was Heather approaching her and asking for her to sit with her during English. They talked about Heather Duke’s expanding agenda—the head cheerleader had fallen back into the girl’s ranks—and their plans for Winter Formal.

“Is JD taking you?” Heather asked curiously after admitting she was hoping Matt Bauer from the basketball team would approach her.

“I don’t know.” Veronica didn’t want to tell her _Probably not because we’ll both be in jail,_ so she simply shrugged and let the vague answer sit alone.

“I bet he’ll ask if you mention it,” the blonde encouraged. “You’ve been so gun-shy about everything since—before. I mean, we’re having party this weekend at Matt’s—“

“No,” Veronica refused a little too exuberantly, causing the blue eyes watching her to balk. “I mean, with everything that’s going on…partying is just starting to feel weird.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” Heather wasn’t friends with Martha, but she tended to like what her friends liked, so Veronica could tell she felt bad about her accident. “But I’m sure they’ll get better soon. I mean, I heard they’re letting Martha out next week, right?”

“That’s what I heard: I’m going over there after school to talk to her.”

“Yeah, that’s what JD—“

Veronica’s eyebrows quirked. “What JD what?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Heather was a terrible liar.

“What did JD do, Heather?” _Oh god, the ideas that flickered through her head…_

“He just asked me to make sure you went to our last classes—he didn’t want you ditching to see Martha; he said he wanted to see her first. He didn’t want to upset you.”

Veronica felt the blood draining out of her face. What if JD was stalling her from getting to Martha so he could make sure she never found out? Pulling out her IV drip; smothering her with a pillow….Veronica jerked into action, shoving all of her books into her bag. “I’ve got to go.”

“What? Why?”

“I just do.” Honestly, Veronica liked Heather, but she would let herself get manipulated by a pillbug. And now that she’d properly distracted the brunette, what would she find at the hospital?

 _Oh God Martha,_ she found herself internalizing. _I’m so sorry that I let it slip, that I trusted JD…how am I going to live with this?_

She raced into the hospital, up the elevator, through the corridors, into her room…to where Martha was laying quietly, staring out the window.

“Oh my god— _Martha!_ ” Veronica was crying as she threw herself next to her friend’s bed, practically in hysterics as the wide-eyed worry of the girl next to her confirmed that Martha was, indeed, still alive. “I was so worried—I thought—I’m so sorry!“ She was blubbering like an idiot, unable to keep herself from gripping Martha’s good arm tightly in the closest thing to a hug she could manage in her friend’s state. And that was how they stayed for a few minutes, with Martha’s wide eyes watching and trying to comfort Veronica’s hysterics as she kept rambling her apologies.

“Veronica, really, it’s okay— _I’m_ sorry,” she repeated, causing the brunette to look up at her with bewilderment as she finally processed the words. What did _Martha_ need to be sorry for? “I let myself get caught up in all of this, and then when you said that thing about Ram and the note—“ Veronica winced in shame at the mention of her horrible moment. “But I’m going to be okay—the doctors are letting me out.”

“I know.” Right as the cops are going to arrest me. “Look, Martha; I have to tell you something about that note; about Ram…”

“It’s okay, Veronica—JD already told me everything.” Veronica looked up in surprise, and her friend’s eyes were full of compassion and sympathy. 

“He did?”

“Yeah—he came by like an hour before you did, said that you told him what I’d said and he wanted to clear up everything.”

“He _did?_ ”

Martha’s good hand squeezed her friend's. “It’s okay, Veronica—I’m not going to tell anyone: I already promised him too.” 

Okay... so Martha knew that she’d killed Ram and Kurt, and Heather, and JD convinced her not only to keep it a secret, but apparently in a way that made Martha feel sorry for them? Veronica could only gape as words refused to come out.

“I mean, I guess I always knew Ram wasn’t the same guy he was in grade school,” the kind-hearted girl continued obliviously. “But with what happened to JD—I guess I get why you didn’t think you could tell me about it.”

_JD fidgeted with his hands as Martha watched him timidly. He knew that she was slightly afraid of him; and apparently she’d had good reason. He didn’t think he’d ever hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it, but Veronica was breaking apart over Martha’s attempt at taking her own life, and it gutted him like a fish. He might as well have been jumping off that bridge too. And at night now, he saw Martha standing next to his mom in that library in Texas, just waving at him with sad smiles. He couldn’t stand it._

_“Look, Martha. I know that you think I hate Kurt and Ram, and I kind of do—“ well, _kind of_ was an understatement – “but it’s more complicated than just the fights you saw. Ram…” Deep breath, glance over at her, at the window. “Ram…kissed me.” He watched as Martha’s eyes popped open in surprise. “I don’t know; maybe I said something, or _ did _something; but one minute we’re fighting, and he’s pushed me up against the lockers in the locker room, threatening me, and the next…” He shook his head, not making eye contact. It wasn’t really hard for him to paint the dead guy as a potential rapist—it’s not like he hadn’t tried it before; he and Veronica had discussed it extensively before they’d pulled their double-suicide prank. Just not with_ guys _, as far as either of them knew._

_“I got away, but he said he’d kill me if I said anything,” he told her. “And what would I say that wouldn’t get me pegged as queer at this school? And then he and Kurt killed themselves…I told Veronica, but I made her swear to take it to the grave. I mean, maybe there’s a little more tolerance now in Sherwood, Ohio, but not enough to make people keep from turning around and calling me a fag, you know? I don’t know…maybe I’m just a coward.” He glanced at her, sitting sadly in that bed, casted up in place. “If I’d known you were going to—and how badly Veronica’s messed up over it…I would have spoken up, I swear.” He fixed his eyes earnestly on her, willing her to believe his story. Veronica wanted Martha to find a good guy, to get over Ram Sweeney, and JD couldn’t survive without Veronica. And he’d promised he wouldn’t hurt anybody else. This was the only way._

_After a long minute, Martha’s good hand slowly crawled over to JD’s as it fisted the sheets on the edge of her bed, clasping over his in solace._

“I guess I misjudged him,” Martha added in the silence that followed. Veronica’s brain was still having trouble processing what had just happened. “I mean, all of that—confidence, I guess—I assumed that nothing got to him. But he’s just like the rest of us, really.” She smiled sadly at her friend. “I’m really sorry about this.” 

“Just get better, okay? When you get out, we’ll have a movie night—something with a happy ending.” Both of the girls looked far from believing that there really were happy endings left, in real life or otherwise, but a huge weight was lifting off of Veronica’s chest as she saw her friend truly forgave her, and she was determined to set things right. “And don’t ever do anything like that again.” 

Martha actually did laugh a little at the threat, and nodded her promise. With a gentle farewell and promise to come back soon, Veronica stood up, sweeping a hand down the pleats of her skirt and then leaving the hospital.

She wasn’t really surprised to see JD leaning up against the wall of the hospital exterior waiting for her. “So, are you waiting for a sirened escort?” he asked.

Her eyes were unamused, but she gave a curt shake of her head before sighing. “I can’t believe you told her that,” she finally commented.

“He wasn’t a good guy: she needed to let go. I just gave her a good reason to.” Veronica’s eyebrow quirked as he shrugged and sidled next to her.

“You realize if anyone finds out about that, your reputation is going to be ruined?” she remarked incredulously. Not that his reputation was so stellar to begin with, but adding a “homo” to the “psycho” aspect didn’t really help.

“If I have _you_ , I don’t care,” he insisted, sweeping her into his arms and pressing a kiss against her temple. “I’d let them think I screwed every guy on the football team if it protected you.”

A very weird promise, but Veronica knew his heart was in the right place; and at least he wasn’t threatening to kill anybody. “Thank you,” she told him earnestly, snuggling tighter into his chest. “And thank you for helping Martha. For keeping her safe.”

“I promised.”

Veronica sighed and let go of her fear for the moment, just letting herself feel safe and loved by her boyfriend that protected her in the best way he knew how.


	6. Cutting Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica shuts down any chance at reconciliation with Heather Duke, and tries to get JD away from a toxic influence.

_Dear Diary;  
It’s been three weeks since Martha was released from the hospital. Things have sort of quieted down: we rekindled our friendship, placing me squarely back on the level of supreme geekdom, but after everything that’s happened, I’m more than okay with that. JD is now part of our gang, and actually holds a soft spot specifically for Martha, but whether that’s because she’s impossible not to like or because she’s my best friend remains unknown. Heather McNamara is a spontaneous drop-in as well, though she doesn’t do much beyond the generic Hi in school thanks to Heather Duke, who now reigns as possibly even more of an epic bitch than Heather Chandler, since her lack of personality just turns her into an aimless gossip out to tear anyone down._

“All I’m saying is that the _real_ true love story here is between Inigo and Fezzik.” Veronica smiled as she ambled between JD and Martha’s motor scooter, which got her around while her bones healed. They had their movie nights often, but JD was much more analytical of Martha’s favorite movie than simply to be satisfied with the happy ending, and every viewing caused him to gleefully poke holes in the whole story. Today, apparently, was the true “alpha couple”. “They were together through everything—Fezzik nursed Inigo back from being black out drunk and Inigo gave Fezzik a sense of self-worth.”

“Westley came back from the _dead_ for Buttercup!” Martha countered incredulously, gaping at Veronica in disbelief. “You don’t get much more devoted than that.”

“But Buttercup treated him like crap for years, and then gave up on him when he died. Inigo barely knew the guy, but when Westley died, he brought him to a miracle maker to bring him _back_.”

“Buttercup probably didn't know that guy even existed, or she would have too! And she was willing to kill everyone that she associated with Westley’s death.”

“Fezzik saved Inigo from that brute guy, and would have totally killed Count Rugen if he didn’t know how much it meant to Inigo. I bet he became his first mate on the new Revenge.”

“Okay you guys—time to put away the gloves,” Veronica appealed to them both affectionately as they reached Martha’s locker. The brunette spun the combination to get to her friend’s books, since the staff hadn’t reassigned her one and Martha couldn’t reach her things on her own. It was so messed up how people only seemed to matter at this school if they were popular or dead, but at this point Veronica wasn’t going to let it get to her.

“Veronica.” The voice, though friendly, was meek and timid; not an uncommon trait for Heather McNamara. Veronica turned around with a comforting smile while JD and Martha greeted the girl; Martha with her usual friendly air, and JD with an affable, though apprehensive, expression. 

“Hey Heather; what’s up?”

“Heather wants to talk to you.” Blue eyes darted from one side of the hall to the other. “Alone. Now.”

“Well, I don’t really have any desire to talk to Heather Duke,” Veronica replied, attempting to keep the hostility from her voice. It wasn’t _this_ Heather’s fault after all that the Head Bitch was using her as a messenger.

“Please Veronica? She said it was important, and it would be quick.” Heather McNamara’s expression turned wide-eyed and pleading, and the other girl knew that if she refused the blonde would be paying for it. 

“Ugh; fine.” Veronica slammed Martha’s locker shut, carefully setting the books in the girl’s basket. JD’s hand touched her arm, but she smiled at him casually, attempting to wave away his concerns and keep him from potentially causing more problems.

Heather led the way through the halls into an empty lab where Heather Duke—in all of her red-scrunchie wearing glory—was waiting. “Hey Veronica,” she greeted with a malicious smile. 

But Veronica was done with being suckered into high school crap like whatever Heather was spewing out. “What do you want Heather?”

“I want us to be friends again,” the dark-haired girl explained, a saccharine amicability dripping all over her features. “I want you and me and Heather to go back to the way things were before, to help you get back on top like you wanted when we first met. You remember how I helped you then?”

“I remember Heather _Chandler_ giving me a makeover and bossing me around maliciously for ages,” Veronica deadpanned. “Thanks but no thanks.”

“Well, what if I promised you a better position in the school tier?” Heather stepped in front of the door to keep Veronica from leaving. “You _have_ to have noticed that hanging out with Billy the Kid and Martha Dumptruck has pretty much bottomed out any social credibility you once had. Help me out and maybe I can fix that a little.”

Veronica felt her curiosity tickling her throat. “Help you with what, exactly?”

“Just a little project.” Out of nowhere, a folded piece of paper and pen came into view, and Veronica didn’t even have time to roll her eyes. “Mrs. Flemming is trying to squeeze out everything she can from Heather and Kurt and Ram’s death, so she wants the theme for this year’s Winter Formal is going to be Shine a Light, and the King and Queen will be crowned by those who’ve best represented what Heather Chandler died for.” Veronica’s jaw dropped in an odd mixture of disgust and disbelief while Heather continued, “She's obviously super-busy with other things, but I need a staff letter of recommendation to be eligible. And if I had Ms. Flemming as my teacher, I'd be a shoe-in for it.”

Whatever she may have thought of Veronica’s expression apparently didn’t faze her, as she continued, “The thing is, the Events Committee for the Student Body is voting on this issue like yesterday, so I can't just wait around for her to have time to write it. I figured if you did me a little favor and just used your penmanship skills, I wouldn’t have to bother and I could focus my energy on campaigning and petitioning with the people that matter. Two birds, one stone—you get the idea.” She held up a sheet that Veronica recognized as an old teacher's note with the teacher's scrawl covering it. “Just write down what I tell you to, and I can help you out.”

“Get bent, Heather,” Veronica spat. “I’m not forging anything else for you, much less something like this. After what you did during that assembly, that you would get the crown for a Shine a Light award is a freaking joke.”

“Actually Heather—“ the cowardly blonde whispered from one of the desks.

“ _Shut up Heather!_ ”

“Sorry, Heather.”

“Well, how about this, Little Ms. Above it All? If you _don’t_ help me fill this thing, I will crush you, Rambo, and the Wide Load even further under my heel until you can’t so much as walk into the cafeteria without catching it from every side. Your lives will be over. No one will so much as grant you a casual glance.”

A month ago, that sort of threat would have terrified Veronica; even now, it sent a chill down her spine what Heather Duke could potentially do to her and her friends. But Veronica had sort-of accidentally _killed_ three of her tormentors, and had almost caused the death of two of her friends. She was pretty much the morality chain of Westerburg’s resident psychopath, and she’d been through a ton of shit. 

“I’m not doing it,” the brainy brunette refused adamantly, crumpling the note into a ball and throwing it back into Heather Duke's hands. “You know what? Do whatever you want—just do it without us. Go shove that letter of rec between your tits—god knows they have the same amount of authenticity.” She watched with some satisfaction as Heather Duke’s face reddened at the bite, eyes narrowing. “Goodbye Heather.” 

And with a careful parting glance to Heather McNamara, Veronica walked back into the halls to JD’s locker where he and Martha were waiting for her.

***

“There’s only a month and a half until Winter Formal,” Heather commented as she lined up her shot. “I’m just afraid Heather’s going to decide _she_ wants to go with Matt; then who am I going to go with?”

“Some other jock?” Veronica replied glibly, watching the ball roll to a stop in front of the wicket. Martha was watching with a happy smile, and it saddened Veronica slightly that her best friend was just so happy to be part of the group that she didn’t even care that she couldn’t actually play.

“What about you Martha? Any prospects on the horizon?” Heather asked curiously as Veronica stepped over to the blue ball for her turn.

“No.” The bigger girl ducked her head bashfully. “But the doctors think I may be able to move into crutches by then, so I can still wear a pretty dress.”

“Martha’s coming with me and JD,” Veronica informed the blonde with a smile. JD had already asked both girls properly, assuring Martha that if some guy that was worthy of her time did come into the picture, he would drive her date as well. Of course, the two girls were simply thrilled to be dressing up and going to a formal dance, and had been talking dresses and whatnot ever since. That Martha would be in crutches was a complete boon for them. “We’re borrowing my dad’s station wagon.”

“Heather’s talking about renting a limo,” Heather lamented in a way that made Veronica assume the girl was more disappointed about being in the girl’s company than the mode of transportation. “But she keeps changing her mind about everything—what I can wear, how I can do my hair, who I can take. She just told me last week that I shouldn’t even _think_ about saying yes to anyone on the baseball team.” 

“What about what _you_ want, Heather?” Veronica didn’t really need to ask to know the answer as to why Heather McNamara put up with all of Duke’s bullshit, but she felt the need to reiterate it every now and again; especially when it seemed like Heather was feeling low. 

Sure enough, Heather merely shrugged, moving over to the yellow ball by Martha and taking her shot. Afterwards, she looked around. “Hey, where’s JD? I thought he usually came by after school.”

More like _always_ came by after school. Veronica pretty much refused to spend any more time at the Dean's, deciding being around the house and his father would just incense JD further. So now they either spent their time walking around town or hanging out at her house unless he had to hang back for schoolwork—he was actually starting to catch up with the rest of the class in terms of work, and Veronica was happy to encourage him to actually care about what was going on.

Today though… “His dad wanted to talk to him after school.” Veronica kept her face focused on the ball at her feet, finding it to be the only way to disguise the obvious disgust in her expression from everyone. Explaining Big Bud Dean to outsiders just wasn’t something she wanted to do. She glanced at the sun; she couldn’t really read the time, but it was definitely pretty low. “I thought he’d be done by now though.” What the heck could his dad possibly have to say that would take so long? Or maybe JD was already on his way here? 

“Well, I’ve got to motor,” Heather responded. “Martha, do you need a ride?” The other girl nodded gratefully, and both gave a friendly wave to Veronica. “See you later.”

After dinner, Veronica waited in her room another thirty minutes for JD to show up before getting antsy. She finally gave up, climbing out of her window and trekking the few blocks over to his.

She crept across the lawn to his bedroom, pushing the frame up carefully and sliding inside. The first thing she noticed was the state of his room—normally neat and minimalistic, now his books and clothes were strewn about with abandon, in what she recognized as an “Old JD” rage. The second thing she realized was the demolished radio—a single bullet hole drilled through it.

It took another moment before she finally found the boy himself. He’d been so quiet, so tense, that she felt like she could’ve mistaken him for a shadow on the wall…besides the gun he was holding in his hand, finger still itching on the trigger.

“JD!” she whisper-yelled, and his eyes snapped up to hers. The expression in them scared her: they were red, and desperate, and hopeless and furious all at once. Completely psychotic, like when he’d been on a tear against Kurt and Ram, with Heather Duke in his sights.

And now here Veronica was, the focus of his gaze; and she realized that all of this time she’d been taking for granted the way that his dark gaze lessened, even brightened, when he saw her. Because it sure as hell wasn’t doing that now.

“JD, put the gun down,” she commanded, trying to keep her voice steady. Her boyfriend didn’t really seem to register her words, or at least he didn’t obey. He just kept staring at her, eyes dark as they seemed to look past her, the barrel rocking back and forth in his grip as his wrist twitched.

“JD, put it down—please. You promised me.”

Those words apparently jolted him into action, because he suddenly leapt to his feet, the fire in his gaze now blazing. “What does it _matter_ , Veronica? What does _any of it_ matter anymore?” He pulled the trigger, and a bullet shattered the glass of his mirror, making her jump. She could hear Bud yelling something about no firearms in the house, but the man didn’t seem to be making any move to intercept his son’s actions.

“Stop—stop!” Veronica put her hands on either side of her head, as if halfway-hiding behind them would protect her if JD decided to turn the gun on her. She could feel herself trembling as she looked back up at him, desperately trying to talk him down from wherever he was. “Please, JD—I don’t understand. _Please..._ ”

His eyes seemed to register her fear, and he lowered the gun in his hand seemingly for her sake. It didn’t seem to alleviate his own pain, however, and she watched as the boy's muscles spasmed, slamming the weapon on the desk. “It was a lie—none of it matters. I don’t know why I thought _any_ of this was different: I should have known better…”

“A lie? What do you mean, JD? What--?”

“We’re _leaving!_ ” Veronica realized that there were tears brimming in JD’s eyes, even as he angrily threw yet another book across the room. “Big Bud’s done here, so we’re headed to Baton Rouge.” He looked up at her sadly. “By this time next week, you’ll have forgotten all about me.”

Veronica shook her head stubbornly, stepping forward toward him to take his hands, but he dropped down dejectedly onto his mattress and shook his head. “It’s all the same—it was stupid to ever think it could be otherwise.” He wrapped his hands around her forearms. “I don’t want to live without you. I don’t want to think about how you’ll live without me.” 

Veronica stiffened slightly at his words. When JD made such strong statements, it was a signal to tread very carefully. JD just wasn’t capable of rational thinking when it came to his emotions. At best, he would only hurt himself. At worst? She didn’t even want to consider it. 

She carefully sat beside him, sliding her arms around his torso as she rocked him there on the mattress, thinking about their situation. “You made me a promise JD,” she reminded him softly. “If we mean anything to you, that means that even when things look bad, you still have to keep your promise. Okay?”

JD didn’t answer, but jerked his head in a grudging agreement, and Veronica sighed softly in relief. A weapon out of JD’s hand would definitely help the situation as a whole. 

For a while, she just held onto him, letting him cling to her like a lifesaver. The girl sat thoughtfully, rubbing his arm soothingly until she felt his tension loosen as he slumped lightly against her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is the closest I’ve come to anything like a home in my life. And it’s because of you. I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Do you want to leave?” Veronica already knew the answer, but she felt like it was the best place to start regardless.

“Of course not—what the hell’s in Baton Rouge? More Heathers? More fucking jock assholes? I mean, Sherwood isn’t exactly thrilling, but you’re here—Martha and Heather McNamara are here. I could have gotten used to that.”

“Do you think your dad might let you stay?”

JD’s face looked ridiculous with confusion as he looked at her. Apparently the question was far beyond anything he’d ever considered. Veronica doubted he’d ever even thought about it—why would he want to stay in a town he’d never bothered to get to know anybody in?

“I mean, my parents like you; and you’re practically a legal adult. Maybe if we talked to Bud, and my folks—maybe we could figure out a way for you to finish out senior year here.”

The boy’s expression was wide in wonder and disbelief, as if Santa Claus had appeared and give him something that he couldn’t imagine being possible.

“Come on,” she urged him, budging him up and toward the window. “Let’s get out of here and grab a slushie.” 

Maybe this had been the answer all along.


	7. A Home for a Stray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica comes up with a solution and pleads her case all around.

It was probably after one, and the two of them were still laying out in the gym, huddled beneath JD’s black duster. After all, they’d already committed murder together: what was a little breaking-and-entering and public indecency at this point? Plus, sex seemed to have calmed them both down considerably, if the boy’s content nuzzling into the crook of Veronica’s neck was any indication.

“We’re eventually going to have to go back,” she reminded him. “I don’t think the faculty would approve of our version of physical education.”

JD didn’t respond, instead favoring to continue brushing his lips over her skin as his fingers traced along her stomach. _Memorizing her,_ she realized. 

“Do you think you could be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself more often?” she contemplated at him, shifting so that they were facing each other.

“I didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago,” he reminded her with a impish grin, to which she flashed a similar expression in reply before becoming earnest.

“I’m serious, JD. Because I was thinking…what if we talked to my parents? I mean, we don’t have a lot of room or anything, but I bet we could convince them to let you crash, just until June. If they didn’t think they’d have to worry about their little girl being defiled by her boyfriend, that is.” She arched her eyebrows pointedly.

“I think it’s a nice idea, Veronica, but…” JD let out a sad sigh. “I just don’t see it happening. If there’s anything I’ve learned about adults, it’s that they’re generally incapable of doing anything halfway decent.”

“At least let me _try_ ,” the brunette insisted, frowning at the doleful tone the boy had taken. She squeezed his arm, sliding her hands up until they held his and brought them to her chest. “I’m not ready to lose you yet, JD.” She wasn’t lying either: as much as JD’s intensity frightened her, and though she knew he was often a hairsbreadth from razing the school to the ground, she loved him. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it was still how it was.

Her boyfriend smiled despite himself, and his hand smoothed over her heart as he gave a reluctant nod. Veronica knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to stay with her, but because he was terrified to hope for anything good to happen and lose what little he’d gained in their time together, and it made her that much more determined to find a way to keep him in Sherwood.

***

“Hi Hon— what; taking a break from your crazy social life to spend some time with your old folks?”

Veronica chuckled as she sat next to her father, grabbing a cracker from the plate her mom had set down in front of them.

“31 Across: One who’s often trying. Five letters…” Mr. Sawyer sighed loudly. “Why do I do these goddamn crosswords?” 

“Because you’re an idiot,” Veronica snarked affectionately, and the three of them laughed in their way. It was moments like these that reminded her why she really loved her family, and what she had that so many of her peers seemed to be missing in exchange for a higher rung on the “cool” ladder. “Hey Mom, Dad—you guys like JD, right?”

Her mother gave her father a look, before turning back to the brunette with a knowing smile. “Yes Veronica: I think we both think Jason is a lovely boy. Maybe a little quiet, but sweet. _Very_ cute.”

“Well, the thing is…his dad’s work is moving him to Baton Rouge, and JD wants to stay here,” Veronica explained, scraping her lip nervously with her teeth. “I mean, he’s practically an adult anyways, and I’m sure it would be okay with his dad—but he just needs somewhere to crash for a while, until he can get his own place, you know?”

Her parents' eyes had by widened in shock—whatever they’d expected their daughter to say about her boyfriend, asking him to move in probably wasn’t it. Her mother, though still gaping slightly, was the first to recover. “Veronica, I’m sure Mr. Dean wouldn’t just be okay with leaving his son behind—“

“JD has never gotten the chance to finish out a full term at _one_ school, Mom,” Veronica pleaded. “This is his _senior_ year. Don’t you think his dad should take _that_ into consideration?” She put up her hands defensively. “I’m not saying can we share a room, just can he crash on the couch for a little bit? He’s already promised to take me and Martha to the Winter Formal,” she added for good measure, though that was far from her driving priorities.

However, it did cause her mother to pause and sigh speculatively. “Well…I don’t know Veronica,” she replied, drawing out the words reluctantly. “Are you just doing this because he’s your boyfriend? Because sharing even just a common space is a big responsibility—“

“God Mom—he’s not some stray dog I found,” Veronica interjected. “Even if he _wasn’t_ my boyfriend, I’d still think he deserved more than to be up and moved again like this. He’s not just my friend: he’s Martha’s and Heather’s too, and he’s just starting to get his footing here. JD deserves some kind of stability.”

“I guess everyone’s been kind of uprooted, what with Heather Chandler and Kurt and Ram’s suicides,” her dad remarked quietly to his wife. Veronica didn’t like bringing them into this, but it was working in her favor, so she didn’t argue it either. “Maybe we could at least have a word with Bud Dean—see what he thinks.”

Her mother bit her lip thoughtfully, before glancing back at Veronica. “If— _If_ he did stay, we would be setting some serious ground rules, missy,” she told her daughter. “I may like him, but I want to make sure he’s not going to distract you from your future—or vice versa. And I know you don’t want to think about it, but if you don’t stay together through the year, I need to know that you two can be mature enough to handle this arrangement like responsible adults.”

Yeah; Veronica would have to warn JD against saying anything stupid if her mom brought that idea up; but for the moment the girl was just thrilled that the conversation was going well. “Thank you so much guys! And definitely—we totally can handle all of it.”

“Let us talk to Mr. Dean first, and then we can discuss it over dinner this week,” her father confirmed, and Veronica almost squealed. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect! The sooner the better—I think JD said they were leaving next week, so yeah. Thank you guys!” She sprang to her feet and hugged both of her parents before rushing off to call her boyfriend.

Two days later JD was standing in front of Veronica’s front door, arm carefully tucked into hers, his normal dingy gray tee and duster traded for a midnight blue polo that Heather McNamara had insisted he own on one of their shopping excursions complementing his normal dockers. Apparently Big Bud Dean left a hell of an impression on her folks, because they’d been discussing non-stop the terms of his son's lodging at their home since they’d returned from a very short “dinner”. So short, in fact, JD honestly didn’t see them arrive or leave. 

But Veronica felt hopeful, despite what she noted was JD’s carefully hidden nerves, and the two stepped together into the house.

“Hey kids,” her mother called out. “Go ahead and wash up—dinner’s almost ready.”

Veronica led the way down the hall to the bathroom, and JD leaned against the door as she turned on the faucet. “I wish we’d had more time to prep,” she confessed.

“Aw come on,” he replied. “We’ve pulled off way more elaborate ruses than this in far less time.”

“ _JD!_ ” Veronica did not want to think about their criminal days as inspiration, but apparently her admonishment was brushed off as her boyfriend came behind her, sliding his hands around her waist.

“Come on; I’m just saying we’re creative. I’m sure we can find the right things to say.”

Veronica bit her lip, but didn’t voice the worry that was starting to gnaw in her mind. “Let’s just go to dinner,” she told him, washing away the foam on her hands and scrubbing the water off on the towel nearby.

*** 

After filling up on spaghetti marinara, salad, and french bread, the two of them sat in the backyard, leaning against the patio steps with JD’s arm slung over Veronica’s shoulder.

“I think that my interview went exceedingly well, if I do say so myself,” he assessed with a smug smirk. Veronica remained silent, and he frowned, turning toward her. “You’re not upset, are you? I thought you wanted—“

“That’s not it, JD.” Veronica took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear distractedly, not meeting his gaze.

“Then what is it? I mean, this was your idea—I said everything that would make your parents like me—“

“I don’t want you to just say things because they make people happy JD,” she argued sadly. “I want you to _mean_ them. My mom and dad are good people, and I don’t want you jerking them around when they’re doing something like this for us.”

“You think I’m just jerking them around?” JD’s expression was hurt as he frowned at her. “No one’s _ever_ done something like this for me, Veronica. Your folks barely know me, but their offering something my own Dad would never consider. What the hell kind of asshole would I be if I was fucking with them after that?”

Veronica watched him closely. That was the problem with JD: his skewed moral compass, along with his compulsive lying, made it really difficult to tell what was really going on in his head-- she wasn't even sure _he_ knew whether he was being honest. And a part of her felt awful for putting her parents at risk of one of his blowouts the way she was, even though she really felt that separating him from Big Bud Dean would help with so many of his problems. She loved JD, and she couldn’t help but think that maybe if she surrounded him with good influences—real examples of humanity—then maybe he’d change for real. Not just act this way for her, but because it was the right thing to do.

She sighed. “I know—I’m sorry. I just want this to work so badly—“

“Everything’s going to work out fine. You’ll see.”

“So, you don’t think their rules will be any problem?” 

“What? Curfew and keeping my grades up? I don’t have anywhere else to be besides where you are, and my grades were never really hurting, Veronica. Plus, it might be fun coming home for dinner like a normal person.” He grinned like a little kid at the idea, and she could help but smile in amusement.

“And so…would it be weird if I added a couple of rules of my own?” she asked carefully. Veronica often wondered how many restrictions she could push onto JD’s personality before he put his foot down, and watching a suspicious eyebrow pop at her words, she felt a gnaw in her stomach.

“Rules like what?” he asked.

“Just…stuff that my parents didn’t mention. Stuff they wouldn’t think about it to begin with, but I know they wouldn’t be happy about. Like fighting,” she explained, shooting him a pointed look. “You can’t just go around punching kids bloody if they piss you off, you know? It gives off the wrong impression.”

“Okay…”

“And no guns,” she added quickly. “Period. I’m serious JD—we don’t even _own_ a gun at my house: my parents would lose it if they found one in your stuff. So just—leave it with Bud, okay? Let him take that crap with him?”

JD bit his lip, and Veronica held her breath as she watched him. Her parents would think JD was a psycho if he pulled off the stuff he had with that damn gun. Well, he _was_ a psycho, but Veronica didn’t want _them_ knowing that.

“Ugh; okay, fine. Big Bud can keep it,” he conceded. “Anything else? Should I take up a sport? Maybe start incorporating more color in my wardrobe?” He tugged mockingly at the fabric of his shirt.

“You have to promise me…” she told him seriously, before smiling and leaning into his lips. “That you won’t get caught when you sneak up to my room at least once a week.”

Her boyfriend’s grin returned in full form, responding in full at her kiss. “Only once a week?” he echoed incredulously.

“At _least_ , I'm pretty sure was the stipulation,” she repeated. “Have to take into account fights and sneaking out.”

“So this wouldn’t count…” he surmised, pulling the blanket closer to them as he leaned over her and kissed her soundly.


End file.
